Ada balanced on the top rung of her ladder, dipped her roller into the white paint, and ran it over the red writing. Despite her plans, she hadn’t managed the task the previous day, and now, she observed the result with pleased satisfaction. Although the red showed through, and she’d need another coat, a lightness pulsed in her chest as she completed her task. Determination to carry on fueled her, despite the hurdles she faced. She ignored the slight tremor in her hand, a remnant of the gunfire that had echoed through the hills during the soldiers’ exercise.
The explosive sounds might’ve ceased hours ago, but every shot had shoved her mind back to her husband and his murder. She’d heard gunshots then but had thought little of the harsh cracks because Greg often let his friends come rabbit
